dust
by Flashing The Floods
Summary: Dakota is four years old when his parents give him a choice. Crap. Ugly, bland evaporated milk flavored crap. Possibly potentially triggering content.


**Author's Note: I don't write about Dake much and this kinda popped in my head. That place is a cesspool. Bleh. Anyway, I want to clarify that though the following fic may come across as one of those woobification fics used to excuse jerk-ass characters, that is not this. I'm not really into that kinda thing. This tasteless, worthless, stupid, mediocre crap is only here because again, it's just something that popped into my brain. No ulterior motive or theory e_e'**

 **Please note that the following content was written with the intent to be dark and is also fueled by my own venting and aptitude for cynicism. I absolutely do not, in any way whatsoever, take the reality behind said content lightly. Any unfortunate implications that follow obviously do fall on me, but this is not written with the intent to be glorification of abuse or fetish fodder. If you're looking for ~shota~ please get the fuck out.**

 **Warnings for pedophilia, abuse.**

* * *

Dakota is four years old when his parents give him a choice. They stop fighting for the first time in weeks and dote on him like they haven't done since before the fighting started. His mom gives him a big bear hug that goes under his armpits and swings him around in the air. She smooshes a kiss to his cheek that he would hate and make a face at if he hadn't missed her affection so much.

His father ruffles his hair with his big, warm hand and hoists him up on his shoulders so he can see the beach. They both hold his hands and they take him out for ice cream. He gets a hot fudge sundae so big he can't finish it all and they don't even yell when he gets it all over his face. They only smile wide, pearly crescents of kindness and give him his choice.

"Do you want to live with Mommy or Daddy?"

Dakota's small, chocolate smeared face scrunches up in confusion. "But we all live together..."

His parents exchange looks and their smiles tighten.

"Sometimes mommies and daddies argue," his mother says gently. "When that happens, sometimes they need a break. They need to spend some time apart. Your daddy and I need some time apart. Do you understand?"

Dakota drops his spoon. His stomach is doing somersaults and the ice cream might come back up. "But...But..."

"I'm going to be staying with grandma," his mother continues in a controlled, mellow voice. "You can come with me or stay with Daddy."

"Whoever you pick is fine," his father adds in a tone just as tender. "I won't be mad if you pick Mommy and she won't be mad if you pick me."

"That's right," his mother chirps and reaches over to give his hand a squeeze.

Dakota flounders, eyes stinging as they fill with mist. "I wanna pick both of you," he whines. "Why do you have to take a break? Can't you just say sorry and make up?"

His parents exchange looks again and this time the smiles fall.

"Grown up problems aren't that simple," his mother sighs. "We need time apart. Not forever, but for a little while."

"How long?" Dakota squeaks loudly. He's crying now and some other people are looking over but not many because it's a big beach and there's more important things for them to spy on, like the college kids playing drinking games and the surfers and Dakota doesn't notice anyway because life as he knows it is crumbling like a sandcastle under a bully's stomping feet.

"A little while," his mother repeats. "Just a little while."

"But how long is a little while?" he whimpers, distraught.

"We don't know," his father answers.

Now his tears are frustrated and sad because they're supposed to know, grown-ups are supposed to know everything. It isn't fair and he doesn't understand why they can't just hug and make up, why things can't stay the same. His heart feels like it's being pinched by crab claws and today started out as such a fun day and he wishes that it would've stayed that way.

"Don't go," he begs his mother.

"Don't let her go," he begs his father.

His parents exchange looks a third time and this time they don't say anything at all. His mother only gives his hand another squeeze and his father pats him on the back.

θ

Dakota ends up staying with his father. His grandmother lives very far away and moving with his mother would mean changing schools and leaving his friends. It's also a little bit easier to stay with his father because it's a little bit easier to blame his mother for the break. She's the one going away, after all.

It takes his father a week to replace her even though he swears to Dakota that isn't what he's doing.

"Your mother is your mother," he tells Dakota sincerely. "Nothing is going to change that and she will come back. But Stella is my friend so you have to be nice to her, okay?"

Dakota doesn't think it's okay at all.

He trudges to the porch anyway where Stella stands in her wide-brimmed sunhat and matching floral dress. She has auburn hair pulled back in a single braid, firetruck lipstick coating a broad grin and wide, blinking hazel eyes.

"You must be Dakota," she exclaims, opening her arms. "Oh my, I've heard so much about you! You're even cuter in person!" She grabs him up in a hug and she does not hug like his mother.

One set of fingers curls around the nape of his neck and another cup just above his hip. Her arms cage him tightly and her balloon sized breasts press firm against him. He can barely breathe and the flowery scent of her perfume is overpowering.

He does not hug her back. He does not speak.

"Dakota, say hi," his father instructs. His gaze says he's going to get a spanking if he does not comply.

"Hi," Dakota mutters.

Stella purrs deep in her throat. The hug lasts a few more moments and then she finally releases him. She remains crouched at his level, clasping her hands together.

"So, Dakota, what do you like to do?"

He doesn't like her. He misses his mom and she's crowding him and he wants her to go away but his father is still giving him that look. If he isn't polite, he's going to be in trouble.

"Playing with my toys. Swimming."

"Ooh," she coos. "I like swimming too. I'll have to take you to the beach sometime."

"That sounds like a wonderful idea," his father says before he can protest.

Dakota looks down at the lacquered wood and petulantly puffs out a sigh as his heart sinks into his belly. He gets the feeling that she isn't going anywhere any time soon.

θ

Dakota's feeling is right. Over the next few weeks Stella is there almost all the time. She must be his dad's best friend because they hold hands and watch movies and she makes them lunch and spends the night.

She's trying to be Dakota's best friend too. She showers him with gifts; coloring books and crayons, chalk, racecars, clay, water noodles, action figures. She even gets him a brand new tricycle.

"You're going to spoil him," his father jests after she presents him with a new super-soaker water gun.

"Oh let me," she laughs lightly as she rubs her hand up and down Dakota's back. "That way you don't have to."

Dakota's small child heart is very confused. Sometimes he misses his mother so much it hurts. Stella's perfume is too strong and she doesn't hug the right way. But Stella is also very nice. He's having a lot of fun with all his new toys and she also spends time with him. She watches cartoons with him and reads him bedtime stories whenever she spends the night.

He doesn't want to like her but he kind of likes her anyway. He'd like her better if his mother was here and all four of them could have fun together. He knows Stella isn't his mother, his father reminds him over and over that Stella is not here to replace his mother. But Dakota can't help feeling like she is. Stella showed up right after she went away.

He still can't help softening up toward her. It's not like it's Stella who told his mother to leave and Stella is as sweet as the candy she's always bringing him.

She's even going to take him to the beach just like she said she would. His father is at work so it's just the two of them.

"Do you have all the toys you want to bring?" she asks, poking her head into his room.

"Yeah!" Dakota hops up, holding the plastic blue pail (also a gift from her) with all the beach toys inside.

"Great. Now let me put some sunscreen on you so you don't get burned, okay?" She steps into the room and squeezes a generous amount of sunscreen into her palm.

Dakota obediently holds his arms out and stands with his feet apart.

Stella kneels down and smears the cool, white substance onto his chest. She fans her fingers and spreads it all around his skin. She slowly rubs it in, moving her hands in rhythmic, circular motions. She's taking a little too long for his liking.

Then something weird happens.

Stella pulls down his trunks and squeezes more sunscreen onto her hand.

"Hey," Dakota says, frowning in confusion. "I don't need any there."

"You can never be too careful," Stella assures him with a glint in her eyes. She slathers the sunscreen down his behind and massages it all in, squeezing his butt cheeks. She then moves to his privates and he can't help gasping.

His parents always told him you weren't supposed to touch other people's privates. It was a bad thing to do. Stella's doing it for a reason so he doesn't question it but he doesn't like it either. It doesn't hurt, not like how scraping his knees or stepping on hot rocks hurts, but it doesn't feel right. It makes him uncomfortable.

She carefully strokes the sunscreen in and he tries not to flinch away. It just feels so _weird_.

A few minutes pass and she's still touching him _there_ , smoothing the sunscreen in with just two fingertips.

"Um, are you done yet? We should go before it gets late."

Stella pauses.

"You're right," she says after a moment, beaming brightly. "I've just finished. Let's go."

She pulls up his trunks and Dakota follows her to the car with the pail in his hand. He's more relieved she stopped touching him than excited about the beach. He doesn't know why it didn't feel right, just that it didn't. It unsettled him.

But the uneasiness vanishes from his mind as soon as they get there. The rest of the day goes perfect. They go swimming together and he meets some more kids on the beach and they all make a huge sandcastle. Digging the moat is his favorite part.

θ

Stella makes Dakota feel weird again, a little over a week later. Another day his father is at work and they're both left to themselves.

Most of the day is fun. She takes him to the arcade and helps him play all the hard games. He gets a load of tickets and exchanges them for the good prizes; a handheld game console and a stuffed shark bigger than he is. She buys pizza for dinner and doesn't nag him to eat the crust like his mother always did.

"It's time for your bath," Stella announces when the pizza box is empty and the sink is full of dishes.

Dakota blinks up at her, nonplussed. "Daddy gives me my baths..."

"But he's not here and he's going to be tired when he gets home. I promised him I'd do it." Stella holds out her hand.

Dakota hesitates. He doesn't want her to give him a bath. It seems strange to him.

She doesn't give him a choice. She grabs his hand and whisks him off to the bathroom. Dakota doesn't try to pull away. He supposes it's fine...It's not like Stella is mean or anything...

She plugs the tub and runs the water lukewarm. She puts his favorite bubble soap in like he asks her to but his stomach is still doing backflips. Her fingers make fast work of his buttons and then she plops him in the water.

Most of the time Dakota gets to play in the bath for awhile. He has a rubber duck and rainbow dolphins in tiny floaties and he sends them on adventures through the bubbles. Tonight he doesn't get the chance.

Stella grabs the washcloth right away and sets to sudsing Dakota up. His skin prickles, the warmth inside him recoiling with every sweep of the cloth across his flesh. He has that weird feeling again. Something is wrong.

"Can I play?" he asks uncertainly.

Stella scrubs gently at his neck with the cloth, her opposite hand resting on his waist. She doesn't answer him at first, and when she does her voice is melty warm.

"Let's get you clean first," she says. She draws the cloth down his middle and washes him between the legs. Her hands linger there. She pets his _thing_ like she's petting a cat and tickles his balls, eliciting gasps of surprise from his lips.

"Hey! What are you doing?" Dakota demands. "You're not supposed to touch other people's privates."

Stella pauses and gives him a patient look. "Not usually. But it's different with us. I can touch you because I love you, Dakota. This is how I show my love for you."

"Um...I don't really like it," he says.

She tips her head to the side and offers him a small smile. "Would you feel better if you could touch mine too?"

"Um...No." His small brow furrows. "It'd be better if you stopped...Please," he adds, remembering his manners after a moment.

Stella is immediately displeased. The affection evaporates from her expression and an intimidating scowl takes it's place.

"That's not very nice," she tells him. "I make your daddy happy. I cook for the both of you and I bring you all sorts of goodies, but you don't want me to love you? That isn't fair, Dakota."

"But it's weird," he mutters, shrinking back against the tile wall. He doesn't quite understand but her face looks scary. Like a thundercloud.

"It is _not_ weird," Stella declares in a firm, concrete tone. "It's love. You should want love. If you let me love you like a good boy, I'll take you to the toy store tomorrow. Well. Are you going to be a good boy?"

She stands up and sets her hands on her hips, glowering darkly at him.

"Okay," Dakota gives in. "I'll be a good boy." He just wants her to stop being scary and the promise of a trip to the toy store is very appealing.

Stella's stormy demeanor dissipates into a sunny one and a soft sigh of contentment breezes from her lips.

"That's better," she chirrups and ruffles her fingers through his hair. She takes off his clothes and climbs into the bath with him. There's barely enough room but Dakota does not argue with her as she pulls him down onto her lap. Her _thing_ does not look like his at all and he's curious about that but he doesn't ask because he's frightened of making her angry again.

"You're a good boy," she promises him as she plays with the tiny nubs on his chest and kisses the top of his head. "You're a good boy and you're very cute. Much cuter than your daddy."

"Thank you," he mumbles as discomfort ripples through his insides.

He's still baffled. He doesn't get how this makes him a good boy when usually it's stuff like manners and gold stars at preschool that make him a good boy. But he does get that if he doesn't let her touch his privates, she will get mad. And letting her is probably better than her getting mad. It doesn't hurt, at least. Not like stubbing his toes or smashing his fingers in the door.

And if he's good he gets to go to the toy store. The toy store is fun even if this isn't.

θ

Dakota wakes up when the mattress creaks. The only light is the pale blue glow emitted from his night lamp and it shines eerily in her eyes, makes her big toothy grin glisten in the dark.

"Stella?" he mumbles sleepily.

"Hi, Dakota," she murmurs as she peels back the blanket.

"It's nighttime," he says. He's just woken up and his mind is foggy but he knows that means something. He thinks it probably means she's not supposed to be in here.

"It is," she agrees. "Your daddy's asleep. That means we can spend some quality time together. He can't know because he'll get jealous. You're not allowed to tell him. This is our secret, okay? Our private paradise."

Dakota blinks fuzzily and realizes she's naked. Her hair falls over her bare shoulders in wavy tangles and can see her _thing_. Before he can process this and what to make of it, she's unzipping his pajamas and working them off his body.

"What're you doin'?"

"Loving you," Stella breathes huskily. "Because you're a good boy. You're a special boy and you're very cute."

"I don't wanna—"

Stella silences him with her lips. She squeezes his chin and jerks his mouth open and this time it does hurt, but his yelp of pain is smothered by her tongue. She forces her tongue into his mouth, swirling it between his teeth and slurping against his cheeks.

Dakota flails his arms, panic seizing his chest. He has no idea what to do but this is _wrong_. He feels _wrong._

Stella pulls back just when his lungs feel like they're going to pop. The strand of spit connecting their mouths breaks as he inhales rapid, shallow breaths.

"Shh." She hushes him gently, pressing a featherlight finger to his lips. "Don't be scared. Kissing is fun. When two people kiss like that it means they really, really love each other."

Dakota squirms, emotions he doesn't quite grasp clashing against the confines of his rib cage. His parents have kissed him, his grandparents have kissed him, but none of their kisses were ever like that. He doesn't feel good. He wants her to go away.

"I wanna go back to bed," he whimpers.

"No you don't." She takes his hand and moves it to her privates, which no matter what she says, he is a million percent positive he is _not_ supposed to be touching. His fingers are coated in slick heat as she bends them into her slit.

Her head tips back as she exhales loudly and pumps his fingers in and out, over and over. Dakota's stomach cartwheels and his mouth goes dry. He tries to take his hand back and she does not allow it. He wants to cry for his father but Stella told him he wasn't allowed and so he is conflicted.

Stella goes on, panting harder and harder until his hand is soaked with a great rush of liquid. She lets go of a heavy, breathy moan and then returns his hand to him.

"Such a good boy," she praises softly, caressing his cheek. "Tomorrow I'm going to take you to the zoo."

Dakota can't swallow. His mouth is too dry. There's a pressure mounting behind his eyes but he can't grasp it any more than he can grasp what just happened.

"Doesn't that sound fun?" Stella prompts him in singsong.

"Uh-huh..."

She kisses his forehead and puts his pajamas back on, manipulating his limbs like a marionette. She pushes him back to the bed and tucks him in nice and tight, kissing him once more on the lips before she bids him goodnight and slinks from the room.

Dakota's thoughts are scattered beyond his reach and his hand is still sticky. He stares at the ceiling and he does not go back to sleep.

θ

Dakota gets used to it after awhile. Stella comes into his room whenever she spends the night and showers him with all her love. She slides her hands down his behind and slips her fingers inside of him and it is a very tight, unnerving, needling sensation. He cried the first time but she shushed him and told him good boys don't cry and promised him a lollipop if he was a good boy.

She works his fingers inside of her _special place_ , the one that she only lets him and him alone touch, so he should feel very lucky. The nerves in his fingers always recoil from her heat and he always feels nervous, edgy. Like there's a carousel in his belly. He's done asking her not to though because he is a good boy. If he's a good boy she'll take him to the park.

She tugs his _thing_ and squeezes his balls, licks all over his chest and middle to leave saliva streaks like gooey snail trails. It's jarring and disturbing and it makes his chest all twisty and his skin sting but he doesn't flinch away. Good boys don't flinch away, she reminds him always. Good boys touch her back and suckle at her fingers like they're popsicles and get real popsicles in the morning as long as they do a good job.

He gets lots of things as long as he stays a good boy and does a good job. He isn't sure if it's worth it but he knows he couldn't make her go away even if it wasn't.

"I do this because I love you," Stella promises him in a voice as sugary as the cinnamon cookies she bakes to keep him quiet. "You're very special. Your mom couldn't see that and that's why she left, but I'm here now. And I won't leave you."

Dakota wishes she would sometimes. Her love is heavy. He doesn't think he can handle it.

But sometimes he does want her to stay forever. He beams under her praise and adores all the fun they have.

It seems to him that there are two Stellas. Daytime Stella is his favorite person because she brings him to all the exciting places and puts on all the best cartoons. Nighttime Stella is strange and scary like the sea serpents in pirate books and smothers him with feelings he doesn't want to feel.

"I love you too...Right?"

"Yes," she laughs and sensually traces his lips with her own. "Yes you do. You're a very good boy. What would you like to do tomorrow, Dakota?"

Not this.

"Um...Can we go to the arcade again?"

"Of course we can." She hugs him close and holds him flush against her naked body, ghosting down one hand to give his bottom an affectionate squeeze. She then holds him out at arm's length and gazes at him hungrily, her teeth grazing her lower lip.

"I can't begin to tell you how much cuter than your daddy you are. Look at you, flushed cherry red and peering at me with your pretty eyes. Your eyes look like the sea, Dakota." She kisses his eyelids and nuzzles her face into his neck. "You have such wonderful soft skin. Your daddy's skin is all hairy. Never grow up, okay?"

"...Okay..."

θ

But he grows up a little anyway. A few months pass and it is his fifth birthday. When he blows out the candles on the orange-frosted cake Stella baked herself he has two wishes in his heart, both very strong and straining.

One is that his mother will come back. The other is that Stella will keep her hands to herself. Which wish wins out when his breath steals the flames from the wicks, he doesn't know.

His party is fun. There are friends and cousins and games and gifts. There is confetti in his hair and frosting on his mouth and that's okay because for a few hours everything is okay. Then the sun sets and the party is over.

Hopefully his first wish will come true because he knows the second won't when he wakes up with her mouth on his.

"I've got a surprise for you tonight," Stella whispers as she sits back. She is holding a gift bag in her lap.

Dakota sits up and blinks blearily at it, an ill feeling washing over him.

Stella pulls the surprise out of the bag. It's an object that looks a little like a wand and a lot like his _thing_ , except it's much bigger and bright pink. He sleepily holds his arms out to make undressing him easier for Stella. He has become accustomed to this, but he has no remote concept of what the surprise might be for. She tosses his clothes on the floor and yanks back the blanket.

"Get on your hands and knees," she instructs with a pat on the head.

Dakota complies, feeling more awake as a shiver claws up his spine. Stella spreads his legs some more and covers his mouth with her hand.

Before he can question why she's doing that because that's one thing she hasn't done before, she shoves her surprise right into him and he feels himself tear, splitting, searing pain surging through him in a shockwave.

There's no space in his limited, child-sized mind for anything other than the sheer _hurt_ and he doesn't realize that he's screaming or that she's trying to shut him up.

His father suddenly appears in the doorway, boxers wrinkled and eyes sparkling with alarm. He is a statue of shock for what must be a full minute and then fury contorts his face as a gasp of stark horror leaps from his lips.

He's screaming too but he isn't wailing in inarticulate pitches of pure pain, he's screaming correct accusations and suitable profanities at Stella, throwing her off the bed with such a force she hits the wall.

She doesn't try to defend herself, either verbally or physically. She scrambles for the open window and between pursuing the culprit or tending to his bleeding, shrieking, sobbing son, Dakota's father chooses the latter.

Dakota is clutching at the sheets and trembling like a mouse in the grip of a hawk's talons, heart racing to a violent beat.

His father pats his head with a shaky hand and tries to console him as he jerks the _surprise_ out. It isn't the best course of action. An encore of agony that was the intrusion consumes him in an all encompassing riptide, the pain so intense he's completely overwhelmed.

He passes out.

ჷ

When Dakota is fifteen he has his first girlfriend. She's a cute, sun-kissed blonde on the swim team with plump lips and long legs.

He isn't as crazy about her as she is about him, but he does like her and they have the same taste in movies. Usually it's the guy who's supposed to escalate the mood but when they're making out hot and sloppy in the back of his mom's car, it's her who unzips his jeans and stuffs her hand down the waistband of his underwear.

He freezes up the moment her fingers brush his arousal, breath catching as his chest knots.

It does not go unnoticed.

"What's wrong, Dake?" she asks, blinking her pretty grassy green eyes and tipping her head to one side. A touch of playfulness layers her concern. "You're not a virgin, are you?"

"I wish," pops out without thought or consideration.

Her eyes narrow, brow crinkling.

"C-Condoms," he covers, giving himself a shake. "I wish I had condoms. I didn't think to bring any, so..."

"Oh..." She sits back. and takes her purse off her arm, digging through it. "Hold on, I have a couple. My mom always wants me to be safe, so she keeps them in the hall closet...Ah, here!"

She holds up a small foil package with tiny smile of success.

Dakota swallows and gives a casual grin like he doesn't feel phantom hands crawling over his flesh.

"Cool."

* * *

 **Fucking typos galore. Shit on me, you figure there wouldn't be so many in this little of a document. Bah. I'll fix those and whatnot.**


End file.
